


Killer + The Sound

by moon_hedgehog



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic), The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Explicit Sex, it's angst kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: but I'm stupid in loveand there's nothing I can do.





	Killer + The Sound

**Author's Note:**

> it's a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajvQ9xY3_CM), btw.  
> also inspired by old times of The Cliffs of Insanity. god, i love old times.

Edward has nightmares. Both of them know that – at night they jump out on a bed, heavy breathing pulsing in their chest and a plexus of nerves in their throat; Henry – with bewilderment, his other half – with horror. His other half keeps mouth shut and quips like a hurricane of worn-up, ugly-black thoughts in their head isn't his, and all that remains for the doctor – accept it. He hasn't yet learned to see there, deep down – and Edward knows how to hide his pain very and very well. Even too well.

Henry didn't teach him that.

_

Sunbeams dance across his face, slipping from the edge of the bed down the untidy sheet like sparks; and it simply doesn't fit in with the dried blood stuck under nails and watery red stains on the fingertips. Henry sighs, his own form is just a faded, ghostly reflection against the colors of the real world, and touches are more likely an empty sound. Therefore, almost without any fear, he removes a wheat strand of his killer's hair away, whispers quiet-quiet in his ear and runs lips along his cheek. So, trifles. Edward just mumbles something in a dream.

How can I even protect you? - smiles Henry.

_

Just as always – each damn time and the count has somehow gotten lost for both of them long time ago – everything happens sharply. Here they are still spinning around each other like two moths, and here Edward grabs him by the collar, groping for real, _real_ flesh and pulls at himself and bites on the lips. Henry coughs a bit (everything turns out so silly), feeling a thin trickle of blood running down his own chin; then wheezes with shoulder blades against the wall, pushing into a sweaty hand and foretelling ill anticipation in his heart. It's unhealthy. Probably, if Frankenstein had found out about this, he would've called him (them) the last scum on earth. Edward scratches his back and Henry licks his neck. No one of them ever feels pain.

Although who knows – Henry thinks much later, seeing Victor off – maybe he already knows.

_

Edward has nightmares. One of them, Henry involuntarily enters with the very edge of his subconscious; sees – himself; sees – blood; sees – his other half. A knife. Covered in fog gateway. And heavens, threatening to rain. He's pulled back sharply, flung up to freezing in splinters air and thrown backward. In reality, it's deep night, his body is _his_ , and the branches are whipping on the window in unison. Edward sits down next – the bed doesn't feel his weight – with a mixture of anger and fear on his face, probably wants to yell, but only takes Henry's hands in his. Asks:

“If I kill you, who will feel the pain?”

Henry stumbles with the answer and draws him closer, whispering in his ear: “stay”.


End file.
